


Vissi d'Amore

by TheEigthPillarGeneral



Series: Operaklok [1]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Alternate Universe- Tosca, I changed a few things around so that this story could work, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Suicide, and yes it is a tragic opera, yes I based this off Puccini's opera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:10:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9664988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEigthPillarGeneral/pseuds/TheEigthPillarGeneral
Summary: The year is 1521 in Malmö, the beginning of the Swedish War of Liberation. Skwisgaar Skwigelf, a celebrated singer, seduces all with his voice, but loves only one man: Toki Wartooth, a young Norwegian painter. This fills the corrupt Magnus Hammersmith, the Chief of Police, with jealousy. But when Toki hides an escaped political prisoner, Skwisgaar is pulled into a web of danger and lies by Magnus, who abuses his power to force him to betray Toki's secret. When Toki is imprisoned and faces death, Skwisgaar will do anything to save him. But after his revenge on Magnus, he realises too late that he has been double-crossed. Based on Giacomo Puccini's opera 'Tosca'.





	1. Recondita Armonia

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea that stuck with me, and I had no other choice but to write it. Tosca is perhaps my favourite opera, and it was a little hard to write this, but it's pretty fun, actually! I had to rely on the libretto to help me out, so some of the dialogue might be a little strange. I also couldn't use Toki and Skwisgaar's typical patterns of speech, because it was tough to incorporate it into the text. I hope this doesn't bother you.
> 
> I know that the opera is set in Rome during the 1800's, but I had to change the setting to make it work for this pairing, so it's now set in 1521 in Malmö, the year the Swedish War of Liberation started. I also highly recommend you watch the opera with Roberto Alagna and Angela Gheorghiu (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vWnh8SA2f8g) if you want a feel for this story. The title of this story comes from a line from Tosca's aria 'Vissi d'Arte' (I have lived for art).
> 
> Anyways, the cast list is:
> 
> Floria Tosca- Skwisgaar Skwigelf  
> Mario Cavaradossi- Toki Wartooth  
> Baron Scarpia- Magnus Hammersmith  
> Spoletta- Metal-Masked Assassin
> 
> Enjoy everyone!

The doors of the Sankt Petri Church burst open, and a weary man with grayish-brown staggered inside, panting heavily. He was exhausted. It had taken a lot of energy for him to escape unnoticed, but Brynjar Losnedahl was now out of prison. Even then, his journey here had truly been a risky one, out of fear of being caught by the police on the streets of Malmö.

Brynjar sighed. “In my own silly fear, I thought I saw policemen everywhere on the streets…” he mumbled. He then looked around, seeing the painter’s scaffold and the large cloth covering a painting before noticing the statue of the Mariabilder and the basin of Holy Water.

“The column and the basin…” he recalled. “At the base of the Mariabilder, that’s where my sister said.” Making his way to the statue, Brynjar searched around the base when his hands finally closed around it. Holding it up, he smirked triumphantly.

“This is the key! And this is the chapel!” Hurrying to the gate, Brynjar carefully unlocked the gate of the Johansson private chapel, opening it up before slipping through. Closing the gate again, he disappeared within the chapel, and just in time.

Shortly after closing the door, the old Sacristan entered, carrying some paintbrushes.

“Forever washing…” he muttered. “Every brush is filthier than the streets! Young painter!” He turned to look at the scaffold, only to see no one there, to his surprise.

“No one’s here… I would have sworn that Toki Wartooth had returned.” Setting the brushes down, the Sacristan climbed the scaffold to check on the basket of bread. Upon seeing it, he shook his head.

“I’m mistaken, the basket’s untouched,” he said, climbing down.

Right then, the Angelus sounded in the church. With that, the Sacristan knelt down and started praying. _“Angelus Domini nuntiavit Mariae, et concepit de Spiritu Sancto…”_

Just as he finished praying, the side door opened, and in walked a young man with long sandy-coloured hair, piercing blue eyes, and a thin moustache. Dressed in his usual attire of a white shirt, red vest, and brown pants, Toki Wartooth had an infectious smile on his face, as he always did. Originally from Norway, Toki had moved to Malmö several years ago and was now a painter for the Sankt Petri Church.

“What are you doing?” Toki asked, noticing the Sacristan kneeling.

“Reciting the Angelus,” the Sacristan said as he rose.

Accepting the answer, Toki climbed up the scaffold and uncovered the painting. It was none other than Mary Magdalene, but with dark brown hair and green eyes. Toki stood before his piece, silently admiring it when he heard the Sacristan below him.

“Her picture!” he exclaimed.

“Whose?”

“The strange girl who has been coming these past few days for prayer,” the Sacristan replied as he gestured to the Mariabilder. “Such devotion… such piety she has.”

Toki nodded in agreement. “Yes. And she was so deep in her sincere prayers that I could paint without her noticing,” he said.

At those words, the Sacristan frowned. “Away, Satan, away!” he muttered in disapproval. Sometimes the young painter spoke of topics not suited for church, and it annoyed him a little.

“Pass me my paints, please?” Toki asked.

The Sacristan retrieved a tray of paints from the ground, passing them up to Toki, who immediately started painting, pausing in between to observe his work. Toki had already done paintings of Jesus Christ and of the angels, his favourite work being his painting of Archangel Gabriel from months ago. And just like his painting of Mary Magdalene, he had painted Gabriel based on another devout visitor of the church. At that memory, Toki smiled. He stopped painting as he pulled out his medallion which held a miniature portrait.

“Oh, hidden harmony of contrasting beauty…” Toki sighed, smiling. “While Skwisgaar is blond, you are dark-haired. His eyes blue, and yours green!”

“Jest with knaves and neglect the saints…” the Sacristan muttered, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Art blends dissimilar beauty together, but even as I paint her portrait, I’m always thinking of you, Skwisgaar…”

The Sacristan continued mumbling his disapproval. “These women in rivalry with the Mariabilder… smell of the devil…” He glanced at Toki. “May I go?”

“As you wish,” Toki said.

“Your basket’s full,” the Sacristan pointed out. “Are you fasting?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Very well. Be sure to close up when you leave.” With that, the Sacristan left the church.

Shortly after the Sacristan left, Toki heard the sound of a lock creaking. “Someone’s here?” He turned around, only to see a familiar man behind the gates of the Johansson chapel.

Brynjar looked up and he couldn’t help but smile upon seeing his old friend Toki. “Wartooth! My God, Heaven itself has sent you!” he called.

However, Toki looked at him with confusion.

“Don’t you recognise me?” Brynjar asked, his face falling. “Has prison really changed me?”

Toki looked at Brynjar’s face closely before it hit him. He stared at him in shock. “Brynjar! The former consul of the Swedish Empire!” he exclaimed, running up to him.

The man had been imprisoned in the Malmö Castle under the command of the Danish King Christian II, shortly after he had invaded Sweden. He was one of the lucky men not to have been killed during the Stockholm Bloodbath.

“I’ve just escaped from the Malmö Castle,” Brynjar told him, his voice hushed.

“Don’t worry, I’m at your service,” Toki reassured him. “I’ll help you in any way I can.”

Before he could answer, a voice called out from the entrance of the church. “Toki!” A man called, his voice melodic and alluring.

Toki turned back to Brynjar. “Go, hide! Only a moment and I’ll send him away!” he whispered.

“Toki!” the man called again.

Toki turned back. “Here I am!” he called.

Brynjar leaned against the scaffold, exhausted. “I don’t think I can continue,” he said. “I’m feeling faint.”

Quickly, Toki grabbed his basket and gave it to his friend before pushing him towards the chapel. “There’s food and wine in this basket. Quickly now!”

“Thank you!” Brynjar entered the chapel, just as the man started calling for Toki again, now sounding more impatient.

Toki opened the gate to the church. “I’m here…” he greeted his visitor.

The visitor was none other than Skwisgaar Skwigelf, a talented Swedish singer and Toki’s lover. He was dressed in a white ruffled shirt, a long cream-coloured coat, and matching pants; one of his theatrical outfits, and holding a bouquet of flowers. With long golden hair that fell in waves down his back, ocean-blue eyes, and a diva-like attitude, Skwisgaar was a beautiful man and a passionate lover, and Toki felt so lucky to have someone who loved him so ardently.

However, Skwisgaar did have a slight jealous streak, one that made him quite endearing. Skwisgaar regarded Toki with suspicion, evading his attempt to embrace him. “Why was it locked?” he asked.

“The Sacristan wanted it to be locked,” Toki told him.

“And who were you talking to?” Skwisgaar asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You, of course!” Toki said.

Skwisgaar looked at him disbelievingly. “I heard you whispering with someone else. Where is she?” he asked.

“Who?”

“The woman!” Skwisgaar retorted, still suspicious. “You weren’t seeing a woman behind my back, weren’t you?”

Toki smiled. “You’re dreaming,” he told him.

“Oh, you’re denying it?”

“Of course, I’m denying it,” Toki said, moving closer to him. “And I love you.” He leaned up, trying to kiss his lover, only to be gently pushed away.

“Not in a church, Toki,” Skwisgaar chided gently. “Especially not before the Mariabilder. Let me offer these first.”

Skwisgaar approached the Mariabilder statue, gently placing the flowers at the base before kneeling in prayer. When he finished, he stood up, noticing that Toki was sorting through his brushes while seated on the stairs.

“Listen to me, Toki,” he started. “I’m singing tonight, but the programme is short. Wait for me at the entrance of the theatre, and we’ll go to your villa alone together.”

“Tonight?” Toki asked, preoccupied with his thoughts.

Skwisgaar nodded. “Of course! It’s the full moon tonight.” His face fell slightly. “Ams you not happy?”

“No! I am happy!” Toki insisted, still preoccupied.

This tone did not go unnoticed. “Say it again!”

“I’m happy!”

“You don’t sound like it.” Skwisgaar sat down next to Toki, looking concerned. “Do you not long for our house, waiting for us in the grove? To be by my side and watch the stars in the night together? To listen to the nocturnal sounds in the woods?” He placed his hands on Toki’s shoulders, whispering these words in his ear. “I burn with a mad desire for you…”

Toki couldn’t help but smile. “When you say it like that, I can’t help but be tempted,” he said, turning to look at Skwisgaar. “I’ll come, dear incubus. But you must let me work.”

“Very well.” As Skwisgaar got up from the stairs, he glanced up and noticed the painting. “Who’s that woman?”

“Mary Magdalene,” Toki said.

“I’ve seen those eyes before…” Skwisgaar struggled to remember. But then it struck him and he looked at Toki in surprise. “It’s the Markisinna! Then she was here moments ago!”

“It was pure chance,” Toki reassured him, smiling fondly. “I saw her yesterday and I painted her unnoticed.”

Skwisgaar stared warily at the painting. “It feels like those eyes are staring at me,” he said.

Toki pulled Skwisgaar into a hug, running his fingers through his lover’s soft blond hair. “No other eyes can compare to yours, Skwisgaar,” he told him, gently holding his face.

At Toki’s gentle words, Skwisgaar couldn’t help but smile softly. It was a rare smile that he reserved only for Toki, and no matter how many times he saw it, Toki always fell in love all over again.

“You really have a way with words, don’t you?” Skwisgaar chuckled. Closing his eyes, he leaned in and captured Toki’s lips with his own in a kiss.

Toki kissed him back, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around his neck. He inhaled the fresh scent that Skwisgaar always had, one that comforted him, one that he always enjoyed during their nightly trysts that they engaged in after Skwisgaar’s performances. Toki loved so many things about Skwisgaar: his naturally-melodic voice, his seductive charm, his gentle smiles, and his passionate devotion. And hearing him sing was like a gift from God; his voice was fantastic. No matter how many times he listened to him sing, Toki was always in awe.

They pulled away, the both of them blushing. Toki gently caressed Skwisgaar’s face. “I loves you, Skwisgaar,” he whispered. “Let that be your reassurance.”

Skwisgaar smiled back. “You keep working until evening,” he told him. “And promise me that no woman will come in here?” He smiled teasingly.

Toki chuckled. “I promise,” he said, shaking his head. “Now go.”

Skwisgaar complied, giving Toki a short kiss on the lips before leaving the church. Toki listened to his retreating footsteps, waiting until the door closed completely before turning to the gates of the chapel. Sure enough, Brynjar appeared at once. Toki opened the gate for him.

“Skwisgaar’s a good man, but he can’t really keep secrets,” Toki told him. “I couldn’t tell him anything, it’s better that way.”

Brynjar nodded. “Are we alone now?”

“Yes,” Toki said. “What’s your plan?”

“With how things are, I must flee the city, or remain in hiding in Stockholm,” Brynjar told him. “My sister, however…”

“The Markisinna Johansson?”

“Yes. She hid some women’s clothing under the altar,” Brynjar explained. “A dress, a veil, and a fan. When it gets dark, I’ll put those clothes on.”

Toki’s eyes widened in surprise. “A sister’s love… it now makes sense!” he realised.

Brynjar nodded grimly. “She’s risked so much to save me from that scoundrel Magnus Hammersmith,” he said.

“Magnus?” Toki repeated, looking stunned. “That corrupt bigot who exploits religion all for the sake of his lust…” He shook his head. “I’ll save you, even if it costs me my life! But waiting for night isn’t safe.” He snapped his fingers. “The chapel opens onto a vegetable garden, and beyond that is a canefield that has a path through meadows to my villa.”

“Yes, I know,” Brynjar said.

Toki handed him a key. “This is the key. Before evening, I’ll meet you there,” he said, bundling up the women’s clothing that lay under the altar. “Take the women’s clothing with you.”

“Should I wear them?” Brynjar asked, accepting the bundle.

“The path’s empty, you don’t need to.”

Brynjar nodded and turned to leave when Toki stopped him.

“If there’s any sign of danger, go to the well in the garden,” he instructed. “Halfway down, there’s a passage to a dark room. It’s the perfect hiding place!”

Suddenly, the sound of a cannon firing echoed, causing Toki and Brynjar to look at each other in alarm.

“They’ve discovered your escape!” Toki realised. “Magnus is now loose in the streets!” His face hardened. “I’m coming with you. We have to be on guard.”

“Someone’s coming!” Brynjar whispered, hearing footsteps.

“If we’re attacked, we’ll fight back!” With that, Toki and Brynjar fled through the chapel doors and out of the church.


	2. Te Deum Laudamus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2. Mördare means 'Assassin' in Swedish, and yes, this is the Metal-Masked Assassin. Enjoy! 
> 
> PS: Mariabilder is the Swedish name of the Madonna.

The Sacristan entered the church, clearly high in spirits. “Wonderful news, young painter!” he announced.

He was surprised to see that Toki had disappeared. “He’s gone,” he muttered, disappointed.

At that moment, several priests, disciples, and singers from the chapel entered through all the doors of the church. “Hurry, the choir is here!” the Sacristan ordered.

“Where?” one of the disciples asked.

“In the sacristy,” he responded.

“But what’s happened?” another disciple asked.

“You mean you haven’t heard? Gustav Vasa… he and his rebels have crushed the scoundrel Christian II’s men at Brunnbäck Ferry!” the Sacristan declared. “And it’s true, the news just reached us.”

“Let’s celebrate!” a disciple cheered.

“Tonight, there will be a mighty torch procession, a gala evening at the Alnarp Castle, and a new cantata for the occasion with Skwisgaar Skwigelf! And in the churches, hymns to the Lord! Now then, get dressed, and no more shouting. Off to the sacristy!”

Everyone was laughing and celebrating happily. _“Te Deum… Gloria!”_ they chanted.

The celebration was at its peak; everyone was cheering so loudly that they failed to hear the doors opening until a harsh voice cut through the cheers. Silence immediately fell when they saw who the newcomer was. Glaring from the doors of the church was none other than Magnus Hammersmith, the corrupt Chief of Police under Christian II of Denmark. Surrounding him were several police agents and his subordinate, simply known as Mördare, wearing a metal mask.

“So much noise coming from a church!” Magnus observed, frowning.

The Sacristan shivered in fear. “E-Excellency… the wonderful news…” he stammered.

“Prepare for the _Te Deum,”_ Magnus commanded.

Everyone left the hall, their spirits dampened. The Sacristan tried to leave but was stopped by Magnus. “You stay here!” he barked.

“O-Of course!”

“And you.” He turned to Mördare. “Search every corner, track down every clue.”

“Yes sir,” Mördare said.

Magnus turned to the policemen. “Keep watch at the doors, and don’t arouse any suspicion!” he commanded. He turned back to the Sacristan. “And you… I hope you choose your answers carefully.” He frowned. “A prisoner of State has just escaped from Malmö Castle, and has taken refuge here.”

“Heaven help us!” the Sacristan exclaimed, shocked.

“And he may still be here,” Magnus continued. “Where is the Johansson chapel?”

“Right there,” the Sacristan said, heading to the gates. To his surprise, they were open. “It’s open… and there’s another key!”

“Good. Let’s go in,” Magnus said.

He entered the chapel, but returned after a brief moment, holding a blue silk fan. He looked at it in dismay. “It was a mistake to fire the cannon,” he said. “The prisoner has escaped, but has left behind a vital clue: this fan. Who was the accomplice in his escape?”

Magnus examined the fan when he suddenly noticed the family crest. “The Markisinna Johansson! This is her crest…” Looking up, he examined every part of the church before his eyes landed on the scaffold. Magnus then noticed the painter’s tools, his eyes trailing up to the painting… where he recognised the features of the Markisinna in Mary Magdalene.

“Who painted that?” he asked the Sacristan.

“Toki Wartooth,” the Sacristan answered.

Magnus’s face darkened. _He… Skwisgaar Skwigelf’s lover!_

Right then, one of the policemen emerged from the chapel with an empty basket. However, Magnus did not notice until the Sacristan exclaimed that the basket was empty.

“What is that?” he asked.

“The painter’s basket…” the Sacristan said hesitantly. “I left it for him with food…”

“Then he must’ve eaten!” Magnus thought out loud.

The Sacristan shook his head. “No, he had no key to the chapel. And he told me that he did not want to eat,” he said.

Magnus was struck with realisation. “It all makes sense… the painter’s meal became that of Losnedahl!”

A sudden movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Glancing towards the movement, Magnus saw none other than Skwisgaar Skwigelf, who looked to be in a hurry. Seeing this, a cruel smirk spread across his face.

“Skwisgaar? He must not see me.” Magnus hid behind the column with the basin of Holy Water. “While Iago had a handkerchief, I have a fan to drive a jealous lover into distraction…” he plotted.

Skwisgaar entered and made his way to the scaffold, only to stop in surprise. Toki wasn’t there. “Toki!” he called.

“The painter Wartooth?” the Sacristan asked. “Who knows where he is, and with whom? He’s slipped away, disappeared through his own witchcraft.” With that, the Sacristan left.

At that moment, Magnus stepped out from behind the column, dipping his hand in the basin to offer Holy Water to Skwisgaar. Bells sounded outside, summoning people to the church.

“Mr. Skwigelf, I offer you Holy Water,” Magnus said, holding his hand out as he approached him.

“Thank you.” Skwisgaar touched his hand before crossing himself.

Slowly, the church began to fill with people offering their prayers. However, Magnus didn’t seem to care.

“A noble example you are,” Magnus said, his voice deceivingly calm. “You use your devotion in the mastery of fine arts to restore faith in men.” He smiled coldly. “Your life is on the stage, and you still come to pray at church. Such piety is rare.”

Skwisgaar looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“You aren’t like the woman who has the dress and face of Mary Magdalene, coming to engage in sinful affairs,” Magnus said.

Immediately, this caught Skwisgaar’s attention. “Sinful affairs? What’s your proof?” he asked.

Magnus held out the fan. “Is this a painter’s tool?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Where was it?” Skwisgaar asked, taking it from him.

Magnus suppressed the urge to smirk. “On the scaffold,” he said. “Clearly, the lovers were surprised by someone and she dropped this in her haste!”

Skwisgaar stared at the fan in shock, tears filling his eyes. _The crown… the crest… it’s the Markisinna Johansson!_ He thought to himself. He couldn’t believe it. But Toki had promised him…

Meanwhile, Magnus just smirked as he saw the heartbroken expression on Skwisgaar’s face. _I’ve hit the mark!_

“I…” Skwisgaar shook his head, trying not to show the tears in his eyes. “I came here to tell him that we cannot meet tonight, for I have to perform tonight…”

 _The poison has bitten already!_ Magnus thought. He faked a gracious tone as he spoke to Skwisgaar. “What’s the matter? Why are you grieving? I’d do anything to wipe those tears away,” he told him.

“Here I am, heartbroken, while he mocks my anguish while in another’s arms!” Skwisgaar hissed to himself. A sudden anger took over him. “Where are they? I must catch them! They must be meeting in his villa…” With hardened resolve, Skwisgaar glared at the painting. “I swear, you will not have him tonight!”

Magnus regarded him with surprise. “In a church!”

“God will forgive me!” Skwisgaar retorted before turning to leave.

Once he had left, Magnus returned to the column, signaling for Mördare to come. Sure enough, he emerged from behind the column.

“Three men and a carriage,” he instructed. “Follow him wherever he goes!”

“Yes, sir,” Mördare said. “And where will we meet?”

“Alnarp Castle,” Magnus said. And with that, Mördare and three policemen left the church.

Magnus just watched with a cruel smile on his face. He had dug a nest within Skwisgaar’s heart, toyed with his jealousy, and made him jump to conclusions with rash suspicion. The smile quickly left his face as he knelt to pray as the cardinal passed by him.

 _“Adjutorum nostrum in nomine Domini qui fecit coelum et terram…”_ The prayers resounded within the church, and everyone was unaware of the cruel scheming of Magnus Hammersmith.

 _The rebel means nothing to me now._ Magnus thought. _To see those fiery eyes become languid with passion… for the painter, the rope… but for the singer, my arms._ He smirked slightly. Yes, he wanted Skwisgaar Skwigelf all to himself, and he was going to get rid of the Norwegian painter in any way he could.

 _“Te Deum laudamus: Te Dominum confitemur!”_ the churchgoers chanted, snapping Magnus out of his thoughts. Composing himself, Magnus made the Sign of the Cross.

“Skwisgaar Skwigelf… you make me forget God,” Magnus said to himself, kneeling again to pray.

 _“Te aeternum, Patrem omnis terra veneratur!”_ he chanted along with the churchgoers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed so far! Please let me know what you think :) Have a good one!
> 
> Disclaimer: Metalocalypse belongs to Brendon Small and Tommy Blacha, not me. 'Tosca' belongs to Giacomo Puccini, and the libretto belongs to Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa.


	3. Ha Più Forte Sapore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 3. I should've mentioned that Scarpia's servant Sciarrone is now Crozier and Roberti the executioner is Salacia. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Magnus sat at his table, eating his supper. Evening had come and he had returned to his apartment above the Alnarp Castle. He paused his meal, glancing impatiently at his watch. 

“Skwisgaar is a good falcon,” he mused. “Surely by now, my men have discovered their double prey! And at dawn tomorrow, we’ll see Losnedahl on the scaffold and the fine Toki hanging from a noose.” He rang a bell, summoning his servant Crozier.

“Is Skwisgaar in the castle?” Magnus asked.

“A chamberlain has just gone to look for him,” Crozier answered.

Magnus gestured at the window. “Open it up, it’s late,” he ordered.

Crozier complied, opening the window. The sound of an orchestra could be heard from the lower floor, where the party was being held to celebrate Gustav Vasa’s victory over King Christian II’s soldiers at Brunnbäck Ferry.

“The Divo is still missing from the concert while they play gavottes,” Magnus observed. He turned to Crozier. “Wait for Skwisgaar at the entrance, and tell him that I expect him after the concert. In fact…” He stood up, writing a note at his desk. “Give him this note.”

Crozier nodded before leaving the room. Magnus sat back down in front of his supper.

“He will come, from love for his Toki,” he said to himself. “And for his love for the painter, he’ll have no other choice… but to submit to my pleasure. Such is the cruelty of a profound love.” Magnus smiled maliciously, his gaze upon the burning fireplace.

For Magnus, a violent conquest had much more pleasure than a gentle tryst. He hated sighs and vows exchanged in the night, and he did not know how, nor want, to show joy at receiving flowers, hearing songs, or witnessing chivalry. He lived by the sword, and he craved violence.

_ I crave, pursue my desired object, sate myself and cast it off before seeking new bait.  _ Magnus thought. “God made diverse beauties as he made diverse wines, and I mean to taste my full of these divine creations,” he murmured, taking a sip of his wine.

At that moment, Crozier re-entered. “Mördare is here,” he told him.

“Show him in,” Magnus ordered.

Mördare entered the room, standing before Magnus.

“How did the hunt go?” Magnus asked.

“We followed the singer’s path to a lonely villa within the woods,” Mördare started. “He entered there and came out alone. At once, with my dogs, I climbed over the garden wall and broke into the house.” He hesitated.

Sensing this, Magnus scowled and stood up. “And Losnedahl?”

“Nowhere to be found.”

At that, Magnus slammed his fist on the table in rage. “You dog! To the gallows!” he snarled.

“But!” Mördare dared to interrupt. “The painter was there.”

“Wartooth?” Magnus asked, calming down.

Mördare nodded. “And he knows where Losnedahl is,” he said. “He showed such mockery in every word and gesture that I arrested him.”

Magnus smirked. “Not bad. Where is he?”

“In there.” Mördare gestured to the antechamber.

Magnus thought for a moment before being interrupted by the cantata being sung from below. Turning to Mördare, he had made his decision. “Bring in the painter,” he ordered. He then turned to Crozier. “Fetch Salacia and the judge.”

Crozier left and Magnus sat back down. Within a few moments, Mördare and four bailiffs entered with Toki, who was struggling in their arms. It wasn’t long before Crozier entered along with Salacia the executioner, and a judge.

Toki was shoved in front of Magnus, whom he regarded with scorn. “Was there a need to be rough?” he spat disdainfully.

Magnus ignored Toki’s derision. “Have a seat,” he offered affably.

“I’d rather stand,” Toki said coldly.

“Very well.” Magnus folded his hands. “Are you aware that-” He was interrupted by the sound of Skwisgaar’s voice singing the cantata from below.

Toki looked at the window, entranced by his lover’s singing. Even Magnus paused momentarily before regaining composure.

“Are you aware that a prisoner escaped from Malmö Castle today?” he asked.

“I didn’t know,” Toki responded.

Magnus raised an eyebrow. “And it’s reported that you sheltered him in Sankt Petri Church, and gave him food and clothing…”

“Lies,” Toki interrupted, unflinching.

“...and took him to a villa of yours,” Magnus finished.

“That’s a lie,” Toki said, regarding him defiantly. “Where’s your proof?”

Magnus smirked. “A faithful servant.”

“I want the facts!” Toki demanded. “Who’s the accuser? Your spies ransacked my villa for nothing!”

“And there’s the proof that he is well-hidden,” Magnus stated.

Toki glared at him. “Those are just suspicions of a spy!” he retorted.

Mördare regarded Toki with offense. “He merely laughs at our questions!”

“And I’ll laugh still!” Toki barked back.

Magnus was slowly losing patience. “Enough!” he commanded harshly. “Answer me!” Getting up, he stormed to the window and slammed it shut, blocking the singing from below. He then turned back to face Toki, regarding him imperiously. “Where is Losnedahl?”

“I don’t know,” Toki said, unflinching.

“You deny you gave him food?”

“I deny it.”

“And clothes?”

“I deny it.”

“And refuge in your villa? And that he’s hidden there?”

“I deny it all!” Toki vehemently protested.

Magnus calmed down, smiling craftily. “Listen, painter,” he started. “This stubbornness of yours isn’t wise. A simple confession will save you from horrible pain. So tell me: where is Losnedahl?”

Toki gritted his teeth. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice adamant.

Magnus frowned. “For the last time, where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

Mördare smirked under his mask. “Someone needs a good whipping…” he murmured.

Right then, the doors opened and Skwisgaar hastily entered, dressed in a rich, deep-blue outfit with golden patterns, similar to his clothing from the afternoon. His hair was loose as always, falling past his shoulders in golden waves.

Skwisgaar noticed Toki, his eyes widening in surprise. “Toki, you’re here?” he asked, running over to him. He gently wrapped his arms around him and Toki returned the embrace.

Toki looked into Skwisgaar’s eyes. “Don’t say anything about what you saw there,” he whispered, so low that only Skwisgaar could hear. “Or else I’ll be killed.”

Skwisgaar nodded, looking worried.

“Toki Wartooth, the judge awaits your testimony,” Magnus said solemnly. He then turned to Salacia. “First, the usual formalities. And then… as I shall order.”

Crozier opened the doors to the torture chamber, the judge going in first and being followed by Toki and Salacia. Mördare stood beside the doorway, leaving Skwisgaar and Magnus alone together.

Magnus took his time observing Skwisgaar as he approached him. “Now then, let’s talk like friends,” he offered. “Don’t look so scared of me.”

“I’m not scared,” Skwisgaar said, his voice calm as he sat down on a sofa. Internally, however, he was anything but calm. He was worried about Toki.

“What about the fan?” Magnus asked, strolling behind the sofa.

“It was foolish jealousy,” Skwisgaar responded, trying to sound indifferent.

“So, the Markisinna wasn’t at the villa?” Magnus continued, hoping he could prey on Skwisgaar’s jealous nature.

Skwisgaar shook his head. “No, he was alone. Nothing escapes a jealous eye.”

“Indeed!” Magnus pulled up a chair in front of Skwisgaar, sitting down and studying his face.

Skwisgaar was beginning to get annoyed. “Yes. Alone!” he insisted. Would this man ever stop questioning him?

“You’re quite insistent,” Magnus observed. “Are you afraid you might betray yourself?” He turned to Crozier, who stood in the open door. “What does the painter have to say?”

“He denies everything,” Crozier said.

“Keep pressing him,” Magnus ordered.

As Crozier returned and closed the door behind him, Skwisgaar laughed derisively.

“It’s useless,” he said, smiling scornfully. “You know that, right?”

“We’ll see about that,” Magnus replied.

“Should I lie to satisfy you?” Skwisgaar demanded.

“No,” Magnus started, a cold smile on his face. “But the truth will shorten a truly excruciating hour for him.”

At this, Skwisgaar looked at Magnus in surprise. “What do you mean?” he asked, dread filling his being. “What’s going on in there?!” he demanded, becoming more agitated.

“The law must be enforced,” Magnus replied indifferently.

Skwisgaar’s heart pounded rapidly, his breathing becoming quicker. “What’s happening?!” he asked, distressed.

Magnus smiled cruelly. “Toki has been bound hand and foot. And there’s a ring of hooked iron at his temples, so that they spurt blood at his denials,” he said.

Skwisgaar shot up from the sofa, horrified at what Magnus just told him. “No! It can’t be true!” Tears filled his eyes as he glared at Magnus. “You… son of the devil!” he shouted.

A groan of pain echoed from the torture chamber, and Skwisgaar couldn’t help but look at the door, feeling helpless.  _ He’s in so much pain! Please, have mercy… _

“It’s up to you to save him,” Magnus pressed.

Skwisgaar nodded, trying to blink away the tears. “Fine. But stop it! Stop it!”

Magnus turned toward the entryway of the chamber. “Stop everything!”

Crozier nodded. “Yes sir!” He retreated into the chamber.

Magnus then turned back to Skwisgaar. “Now tell me the truth.”

Skwisgaar hurried towards the door. “Let me see him!” he pleaded.

“No!” Magnus barked.

“Toki!” Skwisgaar called desperately.

“Skwisgaar!” Toki called back, his voice hoarse.

Skwisgaar felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Are they still torturing you?” he asked.

“No. Stay strong, and please be silent…” Toki pleaded.

Magnus approached Skwisgaar. “Speak!” he demanded.

However, Skwisgaar felt a new resolve from Toki’s words. He turned and glared defiantly at Magnus. “I know nothing.”

At that, Magnus’s lips curled into a snarl. “Very well then… Salacia, start again!”

“No! Stop!” Skwisgaar begged, trying to block the doorway. He glared at Magnus, his blue eyes burning with hate in spite of the tears in his eyes. “You murderer… you’re killing him!”

“It’s your silence that’s killing him,” Magnus responded.

“You laugh at his torture?!” Skwisgaar demanded, furious.

Magnus couldn’t help but grin sadistically. “Skwisgaar on the stage was never more tragic until now!” he declared before turning to Mördare. “Open the door so he can hear the painter’s cries better.”

As Mördare opened the door, Toki’s voice rang out. “I defy you…”

“Give him more!” Magnus commanded.

“I defy you all!” Toki shouted.

“Speak now, Skwisgaar!” Magnus ordered, turning back to face the singer. “Where’s Losnedahl?! Where’s he hiding?!”

Skwisgaar shook his head, covering his ears. “I can’t stand this any more! Stop this torture, please!” he begged.

Magnus stepped aside so that Skwisgaar could get a look at his lover through the open door. However, Skwisgaar was not expecting the horrific sight before him. Toki had bloody wounds all over him, his clothes tattered and stained with dirt and blood. Even so, Toki’s icy-blue eyes were defiant.

Skwisgaar stared at Toki in shock. “Toki… will you let me speak?”

“No.”

“Please, I can’t take this anymore-”

“You don’t know what he could do to us!”

Magnus, enraged at what he heard, turned to Mördare. “Shut him up!”

As Mördare went to do so, Skwisgaar was overcome with despair. Tears dripped down his face and a pained whimper escaped his lips. Collapsing to his knees, he broke down, sobbing in despair. It was horrible, to be forced to hear his lover being tortured and to be unable to do anything about it. If he didn’t speak, Toki would probably die from torture. But if he spoke, then Toki would probably meet a worse punishment. It was a double-edged sword, and Skwisgaar couldn’t win.

Magnus watched Skwisgaar as he wept, and he felt a sadistic pleasure coming from it. It was working perfectly. Feeling satisfied with making him cry, he went to the chamber and ordered for the torture to be resumed.

A loud cry of pain echoed from the chamber and in that moment, Skwisgaar couldn’t take it anymore.

“In the well! He’s in the garden, in the well!” Skwisgaar choked between sobs.

Magnus smirked. “That’s enough, Salacia!”

“He’s fainted!” Crozier said, reentering.

“Bring him in here!” Magnus commanded.

Skwisgaar, meanwhile, closed his eyes as guilt took over him. At that point, he had been so desperate, but he knew just what the consequences would be. And they wouldn’t be light.

“Forgive me, Toki,” he whispered, fresh tears falling down his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is one of Scarpia's arias from Act II. Let me know how I did :) Have a good one!
> 
> Disclaimer: Metalocalypse belongs to Brendon Small and Tommy Blacha, not me. 'Tosca' belongs to Giacomo Puccini and the libretto belongs to Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa.


	4. Già, Mi Dicon Venal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 4. I hope you all enjoy! And please leave reviews? Please?

Crozier and the policemen carried the unconscious Toki into the room, laying him on the sofa. Upon seeing him in bloodstained clothing, Skwisgaar stared in shock. He shook his head sadly and knelt next to the sofa, taking his hand and kissing it gently. He then planted soft kisses all over his face. Meanwhile, Crozier, Salacia, and the judge left the room, with only Magnus, Mördare, and the policemen remaining.

Toki’s eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Skwisgaar in shock. “Skwisgaar!” he gasped.  


Skwisgaar smiled back at him through his tears.  _ “Älskling…”  _ he whispered. “You’ve suffered so much. But God will punish Magnus, I’m sure!”   


“Did you speak?” Toki asked.  


Before Skwisgaar could reply, Magnus interrupted, speaking loudly to Mördare. “In the well, in the garden. Get him, Mördare,” he instructed, a malicious smile on his face.  


Upon hearing that, Toki’s eyes widened in shock, quickly becoming angered as he glared at Skwisgaar. “How could you?! You’ve betrayed me!” he shouted.  


“I’m sorry! Please forgive me!” Skwisgaar pleaded, only to be pushed away. He couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks this time.  


Suddenly, Crozier burst into the room. “Sir! Bad news!” he announced, looking troubled.  


Magnus looked at him in surprise. “What is it?” he asked. “What are you looking so worried about?”  


“It is news of rebellion!” Crozier told him.  


At that, Magnus looked at him, alarmed. “How? Where? What rebellion?” he demanded.  


“At Kopparberg,” Crozier answered. “He and his soldiers have sacked the mine.”  


“And what now?!” Magnus asked.  


“They’re heading to Västerås to gain more support.”  


Toki, upon hearing this news, felt a sudden burst of energy in him. He rose from the sofa, a manic smile on his face as he laughed triumphantly.  


“Victory at last! The avenging dawn finally rises to destroy the evil! And liberty returns, the scourge of tyrants!” he declared, his words filled with bravado.  


Skwisgaar, however, was desperately trying to calm him down. “Toki, be still!” he begged.  


Toki ignored him, caught up in his sudden courage. “Watch me now celebrate in my own suffering… your blood runs cold, hangman, Magnus Hammersmith!”  


As Toki continued shouting, Skwisgaar frantically held onto him, still trying to calm him down. Meanwhile, Magnus just listened and watched, smiling sardonically.  


“Go! Keep on gloating, spill out the last remains of your disgraceful soul!” he sneered. “Go on! You will die, the hangman’s noose awaits you!” He turned to the policemen. “Take him away!”  


Crozier and the policemen stepped forward, seizing Toki and dragging him towards the door in spite of his struggling. Skwisgaar did his very best to hold onto him, but he was roughly pushed to the side.  


“Toki! I’ll come with you!” he called out.  


“Not you!” Magnus ordered. The door closed, leaving him alone with Skwisgaar.  


“Please, save him!” Skwisgaar begged.  


Magnus scowled. “The nerve of you-” Infuriated, he went to the table when he noticed his half-eaten supper. In that moment, he had an idea. Calming down, Magnus turned to Skwisgaar, smiling sadistically.  


“My supper was interrupted,” he said, observing Skwisgaar standing miserably by the door. “Why so sad? Come, dear Skwisgaar, and sit down. How about we find a way to save him together?”  


Skwisgaar turned around to face him. His eyes were bloodshot from crying, and his cheeks were stained with tears. Magnus, still smiling, sat down at his table and beckoned him to do the same.  


“Sit, and we’ll talk,” he said, sounding polite as he poured a glass of wine for Skwisgaar. “Have some. It comes from Germany. Have a sip.”  


Skwisgaar regarded Magnus resentfully as he approached the table, sitting down. “How much?” he asked, his voice bitter.  


Magnus laughed, unperturbed. “How much?”  


“What is your price?” Skwisgaar asked. He tried to ignore the uneasy feeling in his gut; he’d do anything to save Toki.  


Magnus smiled cruelly. “It’s true, they say that I’m dishonest,” he stated proudly, much to Skwisgaar’s disgust. “But I don’t sell myself for money to fair people. I expect a different repayment if I have to betray the oath of office.” His smile became lecherous.  


“I’ve waited for this moment! All this time, I’ve burned with passion for the Divo,” Magnus said, leering at Skwisgaar. “But tonight, I’ve seen you in a new role never seen before. Your tears ignited my senses, and the fierce hatred in your eyes only fed the fire in my blood… like a serpent, you clung to your lover, and in that moment, I vowed that you would be mine! Yes, I will have you!” He rose and began to advance towards Skwisgaar.  


Skwisgaar stared at Magnus, horrified. He noticed him rising from his chair and trying to embrace him, so he shot up and ran to the window, glaring threateningly at him.  


“I’ll jump!” he threatened.  


“Toki is my pawn,” Magnus told him coldly.  


Skwisgaar shook his head when he got the idea to try and call for help. He started to run to the door when he was stopped by Magnus.  


“You’re free to go, but no one will assist you with a prisoner to be executed,” he said.  


At those words, Skwisgaar stepped back, dropping onto the sofa. He turned away from him, filled with revulsion and disgust.  


In spite of it, Magnus eyed him lustfully. “You truly hate me!” he observed before approaching him. “Even so, I still want you!”  


“Don’t touch me, you monster!” Skwisgaar snarled venomously. “I hate you, fiend! Villain!” He shot up from the sofa and attempted to flee.  


“What does it matter?” Magnus leered. “Spasms of hatred, or spasms of passion…”  


“You scoundrel!” Skwisgaar hissed.  


“You’re mine!” Magnus attempted to seize him, but Skwisgaar quickly ran behind the table.  


“You devil!”  


“Mine!” Magnus pursued him.  


Skwisgaar glared at him as he ran to the window. “Don’t touch me, you scum!”  


Suddenly, a drum roll resounded nearby before fading into the distance. Magnus stopped his pursuit and regarded Skwisgaar coldly.  


“Do you hear that?” he asked. “It’s the drums that leads the final march of the condemned. How time passes!”  


Skwisgaar listened to the drum roll in anguish before leaning against the window, exhausted.  


“Are you aware of what is done down there?” Magnus continued. “Gallows are raised. And by your wish, Toki has but one more hour to live.” He stood, waiting for Skwisgaar’s decision.  


Skwisgaar stared bleakly out of the window, overcome with despair and grief. He now had a choice: either let Magnus have his way with him and guarantee Toki’s safety, or refuse and seal Toki’s fate. It would be a miracle if he could save Toki without this ultimatum, but it wasn’t the case. Skwisgaar had never felt so miserable, so vulnerable, so… heartbroken. How could God abandon him in this dark hour?  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from another aria by Scarpia in Act 2. Let me know how I did :) Have a good one!
> 
> Disclaimer: Metalocalypse belongs to Brendon Small and Tommy Blacha, not me. 'Tosca' belongs to Giacomo Puccini, and the libretto belongs to Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa.


	5. Vissi d'Arte

Tears dripped down Skwisgaar’s face as he stared out of the window in despair. How did he and Toki end up in this situation? It hurt so much. They had come together through a shared love of art, and now they were threatened to be torn apart forever. Skwisgaar wept silently at the thought of never seeing his beloved Toki again. 

“I lived for art, I lived for love…” he whispered brokenly. He had never hurt anything before, not once! Every misfortune he saw, he always prayed for it to heal, regardless of who the person was. And from pure faith, he prayed in the holy chapels and brought flowers to the altar.

“Why…?” Skwisgaar whimpered. “Why, God, why? In this painful hour, how can You repay me like this?” He brought jewels for the mantle of the Mariabilder, and sang songs for the stars so that they shone radiantly in the night. So why did God repay him like this?

Desperate, Skwisgaar knelt before Magnus. “Look at me, please…” he begged. “Help me, will you?”

Magnus smirked. “Oh, Skwisgaar…” he said, feigning pity. “You’re too gentle, I can’t help but yield to you. For a trivial cost, you ask me to spare a life… I ask of you right now.”

Again, Skwisgaar was filled with disgust, and he rose from the ground while glaring at Magnus. “You disgust me…” he snarled venomously.

Right then, there was a knock at the door.

“Who’s there?” Magnus asked.

The door opened and Mördare entered, looking out of breath. “Sir, Losnedahl killed himself when we arrived,” he said.

“Then have him hanged dead from the gibbet,” Magnus ordered. “And the other prisoner?”

“Toki Wartooth? Everything is ready, sir,” Mördare replied.

Skwisgaar closed his eyes, humiliated.  _ God help me!  _ He thought to himself.

“Wait.” Magnus turned to look at Skwisgaar. “Well?”

Filled with shame, Skwisgaar nodded as tears dripped down his cheeks. He wiped the tears away and hid his face, already feeling degraded and crushed. But he had no other choice. At this point, Skwisgaar was desperate to save Toki.

Magnus smirked triumphantly and turned back to Mördare. “Listen here-”

“But I demand that he be freed instantly!” Skwisgaar interrupted, frowning at them.

“I cannot openly grant pardon to him,” Magnus told him. “Everyone must believe that Wartooth is dead. Mördare will see to it.”

“And how can I be sure?” Skwisgaar asked.

“By the orders I give to him in your presence.” He turned to Mördare. “Shut the door.”

Mördare did so before approaching Magnus. “Yes sir?”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Magnus said. “The prisoner will be shot…” He held a hand when Skwisgaar started in anger, giving Mördare a hard look. “As we did with Count Persson.”

“An execution…”

“A fake one!” Magnus told him, stressing his words. “As we did with Persson! Understand?”

Mördare nodded. “I understand.”

“I want to explain to him myself,” Skwisgaar added.

“As you wish,” Magnus agreed. “Let him pass. And remember, at four o’clock.”

“Yes. Like Persson.” With that, Mördare left the room.

Magnus stood near the door, listening to his retreating footsteps before his demeanor changed. Turning around, he started to approach Skwisgaar, eyeing him lustfully. “I’ve kept my promise,” he said, his voice husky.

“Wait,” Skwisgaar said firmly. “I want a safe conduct, so that he and I can flee the State together.”

At this, Magnus raised an eyebrow. “You want to leave?” he asked.

“Yes, forever,” Skwisgaar replied.

“Very well.” Magnus went to his desk and started writing out the document. Pausing, he glanced back at Skwisgaar. “And which road do you prefer?”

“The shortest one.”

Nodding, Magnus resumed his writing. While he continued writing, Skwisgaar went to the table and picked up the wine glass that Magnus had poured, his hand trembling. He slowly lifted it to his lips and had just taken a sip when he saw a glint of metal from the corner of his eye. It was a dinner knife lying on the table. Skwisgaar carefully glanced back at Magnus as he set the wine glass down. To his relief, the chief of police was absorbed in his writing. And so, with utmost caution, Skwisgaar slowly reached out for the knife while answering Magnus’s questions and never taking his eyes off his figure. Finally, his hand closed around the handle, and he turned around so that his back was facing Magnus. His heart was pounding rapidly against his chest. It was either now or never.

Magnus finished writing out the conduct. Stamping his seal, he folded the paper before advancing towards Skwisgaar, his arms out and ready to embrace him. “Skwisgaar Skwigelf, you’re mine at last!” he declared, both triumphant and lecherous.

Right then, Skwisgaar turned around and swiftly plunged the knife directly into Magnus’s heart, to his shock. “Why you!” he shouted in pain and anger.

“Here’s the kiss of Skwisgaar Skwigelf!” Skwisgaar shouted back, glaring as he yanked out the knife and shoved Magnus to the ground.

“Someone help me!” Magnus shouted as he crashed to the ground, choking on blood.

Skwisgaar continued glaring at him as he struggled to pull himself onto the sofa. “The victim’s blood now chokes you! Look at you, killed by a mere singer!” he snarled hatefully. “Have you tormented me enough?! Can you still hear me?! Speak! Look at me! I am Skwisgaar Skwigelf, oh, vile Magnus!” All he could feel was loathing and hatred towards Magnus for even daring to threaten his Toki. He bent over Magnus, who fell back on the floor.

“Is your blood choking you?!” Skwisgaar demanded harshly. “Die, you bastard! Die!”

Magnus’s eyes slowly started to grow lifeless.

“Die!”

His movements began to slow down.

“Die!”

In that moment, Magnus became still, his eyes lifeless as his breathing stopped. Skwisgaar glared down at his corpse.

“He’s dead…” Skwisgaar said coldly. “I now shall grant him pardon… how all of Malmö trembled before him…”

Still glaring at the body, Skwisgaar walked over to the table and set the knife down. Taking the bottle of water, he wet a napkin and wiped his fingers clean. After running his fingers through his hair, Skwisgaar went to look for the conduct on the desk when he noticed it in Magnus’s hand. Shuddering, he took it from him and tucked it away into his coat. Just as he turned to leave, Skwisgaar paused. He turned around and picked up the two candles on the table before crouching down and placing them on either side of Magnus’s head. Rising, he saw a crucifix on the wall, which he carefully removed. He returned to Magnus’s corpse and knelt beside him, placing the crucifix on his chest.

With his work done, Skwisgaar rose and made his way to the door, cautiously opening it before stepping out and silently closing it behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this, we conclude Act II. The title comes from Tosca's aria 'Vissi d'Arte'. Next chapter will begin Act III. Let me know how I did :) Have a good one!
> 
> Disclaimer: Metalocalypse belongs to Brendon Small and Tommy Blacha, not me. Tosca belongs to Giacomo Puccini and the libretto belongs to Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa.


	6. E Lucevan Le Stelle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the beginning of Act III, and the second-last chapter. We're nearing the end, everyone! I hope you all enjoy!

Dawn was near. The dark sky was slowly starting to grow lighter and church bells were chiming for morning prayers. The singing of a shepherd boy passing with his flock could be heard from a casemate near the platform of Malmö Castle. A jailer entered the casemate, lighting the candle in front of the crucifix hanging on the wall before lighting the one on the table. He sat down and waited for the prisoner to arrive.

Soon, a sergeant leading a picket of guards emerged from the stairway to the platform with Toki Wartooth in tow. The soldiers halted as the sergeant led Toki to the casemate and handed a note to the jailer, who opened up the registry book and started to write while questioning the prisoner.

“Toki Wartooth?” he asked.

Toki bowed his head in acknowledgement.

“You have one hour,” the jailer told him. “A priest awaits for you.”

“No…” Toki said, shaking his head. “But I have one last favour to ask. I’ll be leaving someone dear to me. Please let me write a letter to him.” He removed a ring from his finger, offering it to him. “All I have is this ring. If you can give him my last farewell, then it’s yours.”

The jailer hesitated for a moment, but soon accepted the ring. He gestured to the chair, moving to sit on the bench as Toki sat at the table. “Write,” he told him.

Toki started to write, but he had barely written a sentence when an onslaught of memories flooded his mind. Tears pricked his eyes as he remembered everything: every kiss, every embrace, every sweet word spoken to him, every touch when they made love… and the day he had met Skwisgaar.

It had been half a month since Toki had arrived in Malmö and became a painter for the Sankt Petri church. He had been commissioned to do a painting of the Archangel Gabriel, and he had just been starting on it when he saw him. An ethereally-beautiful Swedish man with golden hair, ocean-blue eyes, dressed in richly-coloured clothing entering the church with flowers for the Mariabilder. Toki had been so enchanted by him that he began to paint Gabriel with the image of this angelic beauty. The man had never noticed Toki in the days he had come to the church to pray and Toki had always felt too shy to ask him his name.

Eventually, a churchgoer told Toki about the stranger. His name was Skwisgaar Skwigelf, and he was a celebrated singer. After learning about a performance of his that night, Toki had decided to attend. And he had been amazed upon hearing him sing. Skwisgaar’s voice was graceful and bright, but at the same time, dark in timbre. In addition, Skwisgaar was expressive and emotional in his singing, his eyes always sparkling with joy whenever he was on stage. Toki had been convinced that Skwisgaar was an angel in human form. He had returned home feeling a warmth and joy he hadn’t felt in a long time.

The following day, Skwisgaar saw the painting of Gabriel. He had been rather flattered to see the painting having some of his features, and had thanked Toki so kindly. Toki had been very excited, and they had become friends for a while. Eventually, he and Skwisgaar had fallen in love from their shared fondness of the fine arts, and they started a relationship. Toki loved Skwisgaar so much, and the thought of never seeing him was too much.

Toki blinked as he was brought back into reality, tears dripping down his face. He couldn’t write anything. He stood up and walked up the stairway onto the platform, sitting on the bench outside. He stared out at the view of Malmö, heartbroken.

He was going to die, and there was nothing that could be done about it. As miserable as he felt, he also couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. The last sort of interaction he had with him was shouting at him for revealing Losnedahl’s hiding place. Yes, he had been upset about it, but Skwisgaar had probably been desperate to save him. And how did he respond? By accusing him of betrayal.

Toki stared at the lightening sky in despair. “And how the stars shone that night…” he whispered forlornly as more tears dripped down his cheeks. “And how sweet the air smelt…”

He recalled the first time he had brought Skwisgaar to his villa after a performance. It had also been their first night together. Skwisgaar had smelled so wonderful that night and Toki had been so painfully aroused by it. He had willingly submitted to him that night, allowing Toki to remove his clothes, kiss him, and make love to him while holding him close. His tender kisses, his gentle and adoring eyes, his sweet smiles, Toki remembered it all.

A sob escaped from his lips. “Now, that dream of love is gone forever,” Toki said bitterly. “It’s all gone, and now I die in despair… And never before have I loved life so much!”

Toki bent his head down and began to cry, sobbing painfully. He didn’t know what happened to Skwisgaar now, or where he was. He didn’t want to die, not like this! He wanted Skwisgaar so badly, he wanted him to hold him close, to hear him sing, to kiss him… even if it was for the last time.

As Toki wept, Skwisgaar emerged from the stairway onto the platform. He silently approached Toki and upon seeing him, his eyes filled with tears. He gently caressed Toki’s cheek to get his attention.

Toki glanced up and, to his shock, saw Skwisgaar standing before him with a note, a weak smile on his face. Still astonished, Toki took the note and began to read it.

“‘A safe conduct for Skwisgaar Skwigelf… and for the painter accompanying him’,” he read, stunned.

Skwisgaar nodded, smiling tearfully as he sat down. “You’re free…” he told him, his voice hoarse and shaken.

Toki glanced back at the note and saw the signature. He was stunned to see that Magnus Hammersmith had signed it. “Magnus yields? This is his first act of mercy…” he said.

“And his last,” Skwisgaar told him.

“What do you mean?” Toki asked.

Skwisgaar’s face darkened. “He demanded either your blood or my body,” he started, earning a shocked look from Toki. “All my pleas were useless. The bastard told me that the gallows had already been prepared, and that the drums were leading you to death. So I agreed to give myself to him. But I held a blade as he prepared the pass. And when he came to embrace me, I stabbed him in the heart.”

Toki was stunned. “You… You killed him? For me?” he asked.

“My hands reeked of his blood,” Skwisgaar replied.

At this, Toki couldn’t help but smile as he took Skwisgaar’s hands in his. Skwisgaar always had such elegant and graceful hands. And to hear that he let his hands be stained with blood for the sake of love? Toki was overwhelmed with emotion, and tears of joy filled his eyes as he kissed them tenderly.

Skwisgaar smiled back at him as he gently pulled his hands away. “Listen, Toki. The hour is near,” he started. “There’s a carriage waiting. But first, you will be shot in a fake execution with unloaded arms as mock punishment. Fall down at the shot, the soldiers leave, and we’ll be safe! And then we’ll be away by sea in the Öresund!” He smiled, feeling genuine happiness after such a long time.

Toki paused as he registered this information. A soft laugh escaped his lips. “We’ll be free…” he whispered.

Skwisgaar nodded, smiling at him. “You’re right,” he said. “We’ll be free.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from Mario's aria in Act III. Let me know how I did :) Have a good night everyone!
> 
> Disclaimer: Metalocalypse belongs to Brendon Small and Tommy Blacha, not me. 'Tosca' belongs to Giacomo Puccini and the libretto belongs to Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa.


	7. Amaro Sol Per Te M'era Il Morire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter, and the end of act III :) I hope you all enjoy!

Neither Skwisgaar nor Toki could believe that this was happening. Despite all the pain and suffering they had both endured, they would be able to live together far away from Malmö. They both felt a surge of euphoria and overwhelming joy in that moment, and the world seemed to become a little brighter.

“All this suffering and pain is gone,” Skwisgaar said softly, cupping Toki’s face with one hand. “And now, everything feels brighter than usual.”

Toki smiled as he gently held Skwisgaar’s hand there, elated. “Only for you did death taste bitter for me,” he told him. “You care so much about me…” And it was true. It seemed like Skwisgaar was at his happiest when Toki was happy. And now, Toki wanted to experience the beauty of the world with Skwisgaar.

“We’ll find our way together,” Skwisgaar reassured, smiling as they stood up. “Over the sea, we’ll find our way and experience everything that this world has to offer.”

“Where will we go?” Toki asked.

“Anywhere,” Skwisgaar said, laughing softly. “Wherever the ship takes us, we’ll go there together.”

Silence fell over them for a moment. Skwisgaar looked around him uneasily, but was relieved to see that the soldiers hadn’t come yet. He turned back to Toki in order to give him instructions on how to fake his death.

“They’re not here yet,” he said, his voice hushed. “Be careful, alright? When you hear the shot, you must fall down.”

Toki nodded, smiling gently. “Don’t worry. I’ll fall instantly and naturally.”

“But be careful not to hurt yourself,” Skwisgaar warned, gently tapping his nose. “I know how to do it from experience in the theatre.”

Toki wrapped his arms around Skwisgaar and pulled him closer, feeling comforted. “Keep talking, please?” he asked.

Skwisgaar chuckled as he kissed Toki’s forehead. “I’ve never felt so alive before!”

“Neither have I,” Toki agreed, gradually becoming more excited. “I feel… hopeful. No matter what happens, we’ll always stay together.”

With that, Toki leaned in and captured Skwisgaar’s lips with his own. Skwisgaar kissed him back in a tender, loving manner, making sure to savour the moment. He truly missed this. He missed the gentle feeling of Toki’s lips on his, the ticklish sensation of his moustache, the passion he showed through his kisses, one that never failed to make his heart beat faster.

Skwisgaar pulled away from the kiss, taking a moment to look at Toki’s face. He couldn’t believe that he had almost lost him. Gently, he caressed Toki’s face, taking in every feature before pressing his lips against his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, and his eyelids, planting little kisses everywhere.

Toki giggled lightly as Skwisgaar kissed him all over his face. “I love you, Skwisgaar,” he said, smiling.

Skwisgaar paused and smiled back. “I love you too, Toki,” he whispered before kissing him again.

This time, the kiss was more passionate, more desperate on both parts. Skwisgaar pulled Toki close to him, holding him tightly as he deepened the kiss. Toki kissed him back just as eagerly and passionately, tangling his fingers into Skwisgaar’s hair as he lost himself in the blissful happiness he was feeling. Their tongues met and they were as close as they could be, neither of them wanting to let go of the other. Toki moaned softly into Skwisgaar’s mouth, but he didn’t care. Neither did Skwisgaar, who seemed to kiss him even more desperately this time.

Both of them were blushing when they pulled away. Nevertheless, Skwisgaar smiled at Toki, lightly pressing his forehead against his. Toki smiled at the gesture as he held Skwisgaar’s hands. They were both so happy in this moment.

However, the marching of soldiers interrupted their moment together, and they turned to see a squad of soldiers emerging from the stairway. As the officer in command arranged them to the rear, Mördare entered along with the sergeant and the jailer, giving them the orders. Dawn was arriving, and the sky was growing even lighter when a bell struck four. The jailer approached Toki.

“It is time,” he told him.

Toki nodded, looking serious. “I’m ready,” he said.

The jailer, taking the registry, took his leave to the stairway.

Skwisgaar, smiling secretly and trying not to laugh, spoke in a low voice. “Remember, at the first shot: down…” he told him.

Toki smiled back at him, laughing quietly. “Down.”

“And don’t get up before I call you,” Skwisgaar added.

“I won’t.”

“Fall down properly…”

“Like Skwisgaar on the stage,” Toki said, laughing lightly.

“Don’t laugh,” Skwisgaar warned, still smiling.

“Like this?”

“Like that.”

With their farewells over, Toki followed the officer. Meanwhile, Skwisgaar went and hid in the casemate to observe everything. He watched as Toki was led to stand by a wall, declining a blindfold from the sergeant with a smile. The grim preparations were beginning to strain his patience.

_ Why are they taking so long?  _ Skwisgaar wondered to himself.  _ Why are they still delaying? The sun is already rising. It’s only an act, I know, but this grief seems to last forever! _

Right then, the officer and sergeant marshalled the soldiers before the wall and gave their instructions.

“Ready? Aim…”

Skwisgaar tensed up as the soldiers aimed their firearms at Toki.  _ They’re taking aim now… _

“Fire!” The officer lowered his sabre.

Gunshots rang out as the platoon fired, and Toki fell to the ground. At this, Skwisgaar smiled, proud of Toki.  _ What an actor he is! _

Skwisgaar stayed where he was as the sergeant examined Toki. Mördare also approached, stopping the sergeant from delivering a coup de grace before covering Toki with a cloak. The officer realigned the soldiers before allowing Mördare to lead them off by the stairway. As this happened, Skwisgaar was slowly growing agitated, afraid that Toki would become impatient and move or speak before the right moment.

“Don’t move, Toki,” he whispered. “Be still, they’re leaving now…”

When the platform was empty, he emerged from the casemate, pausing when he thought he heard the soldiers returning. Eventually, the soldiers were all gone. With that, Skwisgaar hurried over to Toki.

“Hurry! Get up, Toki!” he urged. “Let’s go, they’re all gone now! Toki, get up!” He knelt down and removed the cloak, only to be met with a horrifying surprise, causing him to recoil in shock and horror, tears welling up in his eyes.

Toki lay completely still, blood staining his clothing from certain points. Without a doubt, he was dead. Magnus had lied to him.

“Toki?!” Skwisgaar sobbed, the tears spilling from his eyes. “You’re dead?! How?! Why?!” He cradled Toki’s body close to him as he wept in despair. “It can’t be… there’s no way… I can’t… why?! How?! I thought…” His words were incoherent in his grief. But he didn’t understand. He thought that it was a fake execution!

Suddenly, from below the parapet and the stairway, Mördare, Crozier, and the soldiers were shouting in confusion, gradually drawing nearer.

“Magnus Hammersmith? Stabbed?!”

“Yes! Stabbed, I tell you!” Crozier shouted.

“It’s Skwisgaar Skwigelf!”

“Don’t let him escape!”

“Be on your guard on the way up the stairs!”

Skwisgaar hastily stood up, running towards the parapet. Right then, Mördare rushed in from the stairway, followed by Crozier. Upon seeing Skwisgaar, Mördare rushed towards him.

“Skwisgaar Skwigelf! You’ll pay for your murder of Magnus Hammersmith!” he snarled.

Skwisgaar glanced over his shoulder and glared at him. “With my own life!” he retorted.

In that moment, Skwisgaar stepped up onto the parapet before glaring upwards. “Magnus Hammersmith! I meet you before God!” he shouted to the sky.

With that, he stepped off the ledge just as Crozier and the soldiers rushed over. And they could only watch in stunned shock as Skwisgaar Skwigelf, the celebrated singer of Malmö, fell to his death on the ground below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from the Act III duet between Cavaradossi and Tosca.
> 
> And with that, the curtains fall. I'm so sorry for making you cry, but it was a lot of fun writing this! Let me know how I did :) Have a good one!
> 
> Disclaimer: Metalocalypse belongs to Brendon Small and Tommy Blacha, not me. 'Tosca' belongs to Giacomo Puccini and the libretto belongs to Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa.


End file.
